Run Fast
by Believe4Ever
Summary: *This story is lightly based on the intro into 'Dog Days Are Over' by Florence the Machine* Molly has had feelings for Lestrade for a long time now, but she's decided it's about time she tell him how she feels.


Molly was nervous. She knew that it was about time she told him about her feelings, but thinking about it just made her even more anxious. She had made it pretty obvious that she liked Sherlock, so how was she supposed to tell him that she liked him instead? What if he just thought that she was trying to settle for him, since she couldn't have Sherlock?

The trains rolled down the tracks. She watched them with interest. She's always enjoyed watching trains, even as a little girl. She'd stay by the train tracks for hours while her father was at home. She didn't like going home to her father. He'd always yell at her and say such nasty things.

That's when she saw him, the man she loved, coming toward her. Lestrade certainly looked handsome that day. He had shaved that morning so his chin was smooth. His graying hair was messy. He wasn't old enough to have graying hair. It must be the stress of being on the force. Molly gulped down the nervous lump in her throat. She was frozen where she stood. She couldn't go back now.

She remembered how whenever Lestrade came by, how she'd go the other direction, duck around a corner, or sink to the floor quickly, behind a corpse on the examination table. Anything to hide the bright red that went straight to her cheeks.

"Hey, Molly," Lestrade greeted. "Interesting place to meet. What did you need to tell me?"

Molly had played this scene so many times in her head. She knew what she wanted to. She knew the easiest way to make him know how she felt was to just act . . .

Before she could change her mind, she leant up and gave him a kiss on the lips. She felt his body stiffen in surprise and she recoiled quickly. She knew she was blushing. Of course. "I-I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling tears suddenly fill her eyes. Embarrassment filled her body. Too much, too much . . .

Molly turned and ran. Why did she even do that? Was she insane? Lestrade wouldn't love her. Why should he? He rarely ever saw her. She's lucky he even knows her name. "Molly!" he called after her. Was he following her? No, he wouldn't follow, would he?

Would he?

Molly found her car quickly and got in. She drove off, luckily not running into anyone in her rush. She arrived at home what seemed instantaneously. She went into the kitchen and leaned over the sink for a minute, feeling nauseous. How could she have _done _that?

"I need a drink," she whispered, wobbling over to the refrigerator. To others it may have seemed that she was already drunk.

She took out a bottle of white wine and a glass from her cupboard. She poured herself a glass and downed it in seconds. The buzz of alcohol felt good as it entered her system. Another glass entered her body. As she poured a third, she realized how stupid she was being. Was she honestly going to stand by the sink and drink a whole bottle of wine? How pathetic was she?

Shaking her head slowly, she emptied the bottle down the wink. It would just get flat and taste disgusting if she stuck it in the refrigerator again. It wasn't like she drank wine every day. She felt like it, sometimes, but she didn't.

"How am I going to face Greg tomorrow?" she whispered, sitting down at her kitchen table. She buried her face in her hands. "Why do I have to be such an idiot?"

There was a knock at her door.

She got up, wobbly on her feet from nerves and the wine. After stumbling to the door, she opened it up to find Lestrade. Her eyes widened and she found herself slamming the door shut in his face. _What is he doing here? What is he doing here?!_

"Molly!" Lestrade shouted on the other side of the door, pounding against the wood. "Molly, please let me in!"

"C-Cant," she squeaked. She started backing away from the door, too shocked to bother to lock it.

"Molly, I'm coming in."

"No! Please, don't!"

"Molly . . ." Lestrade opened the door and peeked inside. "Please, we . . . we have to talk about this, don't we?"

"No, we don't! I don't know what I was thinking! Please, just leave, please . . ."

Lestrade walked over to Molly. For a moment, he towered over her, looking like a frightening figure in a suit and his stormy gray hair. Then he wrapped his arms around her in a hug. Her eyes widened in surprise.

"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you so much."

"W-Why . . .?" Tears were filling her eyes again. Why wouldn't they just stay dry?

"You love me too."

"Too?"

"Yes . . . I've wanted to tell you for a while, how I felt, but I just didn't know how . . . Thank you for taking the first step . . . Thank you, Molly Hooper."

Tears were finally dripping from her eyes. She finally joined in the hug, coiling her arms around him and rubbing his back. She gave a smile. "You really do love me?"

"Yes. I love you, Molly. You're sweet, you're beautiful, you're amazing, you put up with that brat Sherlock, you do everyone favors, you—"

She pressed her lips against his. When she pulled away she gave him a soft grin. "You talk too much, you know that?"

* * *

**Author's note: Please review; I'd really like to know what you guys think about this! **

**Also, if you'd like me to specifically write something, let me know! Thank you for reading!**


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